Without a goodbye
by scottmchungup
Summary: The funeral of Scott McCall was long and drawn out. Those who weren't crying, were pretty close to it, and nearly the whole town had made it. If they hadn't all felt so lonely, maybe they'd have felt together for once, but losing Scott hit everyone hard. {Funeral speeches for Scott tw:major character death, just a lot of angsty feels}
1. Chapter 1

**A/N this is basically just an angsty fic because I got super bored one night! Please r/r!**

"Scott McCall was..."

The young boy bowed his head, not out of respect, or even gathering his thoughts, but to spare the site of his own embarrassment. It was a dreary September day, the grass was dull and lifeless, much like the crowd that had gathered, all for that awkward high schooler and the few that had volunteered to speak, couldn't make it a few sentences without choking up, much like Stiles Stilinski. The wind barely blew, but when it did it came in short, rapid spurts almost like it wanted to catch them off guard, make someone feel something for once since the past week. A huge crowd had gathered. Anyone who had really even talked to Scott seemed to have congregated there, all to wish that seventeen year old goodbye.

"my best friend." He finished, the lump that was forming in his throat threatening to push out those tears that were brimming at his wide brown eyes. He laughed, but not the usual Stiles laugh, the heartbreaking sound of a broken boy, wishing for his friend back.

"Uh, I remember this one time, we uh," He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his plaid shirt. He knew it was a funeral, the general morbidity of it all was painstakingly obvious, but he was Stiles, and the way Scott would remember him, was like this, so why not have a little consistency? Even if it was just a shirt, at this point, it wasn't _just_ anymore.

"Tied his hands back as I hit him with Lacrosse balls." The few members of the audience that weren't in tears, which weren't many, laughed slightly, even Stiles cracked a smile but it vanished as quick as it came. It felt foreign, like he'd never experienced it before, as now, all he truly knew was pain. "And uh, the first time we met was time out first grade year. I-I ate glue or something and Scott laughed along with me, landing us both in trouble, but uh, after that, that's how it always was. Together, or not at all." And somehow they'd always landed on together. Or at least, until now.

"He had a bit of an anger issue to be completely honest." Raising his head from looking down at the podium, his tear stained eyes searching for anyone, anyone that could connect to the truth in those words, until he saw Derek. Derek was in his tux, refined in every way except in the face. It seemed he had aged 40 years in the past week, and his once hardset eyes had now softened. The scruff that covered his face had disappeared, a clean cut, but his mouth twinged a little, knowing the truth behind Stiles' words.

"yeah he was pretty temperamental if you ask me. Another time we uh," But he couldn't continue, that lump had now grown to a full sized beach ball, lodged in his throat. The 16 year old bowed his head, focusing on the wood pattern f the podium, as his voice cracked, "We've been through a lot. Fun times, hard times, but Scott man, I gotta tell you...this is as hard as it gets. And it's even harder without you here."

"It actually...it really wasn't an anger issue. It was more this...compulsive need to play the hero in everything." But that's what Stiles had admired about Scott, his general capacity to care for everyone, without a second thought. It's just that that was also the thing that took Scott away from him. "And I gotta tell you man, I wish you had let me be Batman this one time." He refused the Alpha's. He wouldn't bend to them, and Stiles didn't even have a chance to breathe before Scott had gone down.

He looked to his side, the casket was open and Scott's eyes closed, the trace of the slash that killed him still glowing like a laser, and Stiles' couldn't hold it in any longer. "It just isn't fair! It's not fair! We were...we were supposed to grow old together, you know two cranky old men with a hell of a story to tell. That or go out with a bang. Together." He swiped again at the pools around his eyes, but they just refilled, "Together." He whispered again, barely audible.

"Scott you're my brother. And you always will be. I...I miss you." The last part was obvious, but it still hurt to say. How? How could he possibly continue going on while the person that ran next to him was gone? Forever, just like a bad dream, gone the minute he opened his eyes. But the saddest part, was that right now, his eyes were open, and Scott's brown eyes would never shine again at whatever lame joke he just told. Never again would Stiles have his brother. Not by blood. No definitely not. But by something stronger. An unexplainable bond that just bond the two together. A feeling of always having each other's back, and never letting the other fall. Well now, Stiles felt like he was falling, and this time there was no bottom to fall to. He'd just continue on in what seemed like nothingness.

"You're my brother." He finished, walking off the stage, feeling as if his inside's could eat him away. He couldn't bare to look again at the casket, knowing he wouldn't even be able to make it to his seat if he did. It was then that Stiles realized, like a semi truck hitting him straight in the gut, that a life without Scott McCall wasn't worth living. He sat down, just next to Melissa, who was sobbing uncontrollably, bent over and shaking, and Allison who looked like she's never move again. Never smile, never laugh, never be happy, because that's just what losing Scott felt like.

**Isaac's POV is next!**


	2. Chapter 2

Isaac Lahey was nothing more than a mere silhouette of the boy he once was. The hollow, empty feeling that hadn't escaped him since his best friend had been pronounced as dead. It was a sickening feeling, still is. The way he walked into the police station, expecting Sheriff Stilinski to come out himself and reiterate what Isaac'd been told on the phone. But instead, he'd gotten a deputy, one with a pot belly and wide, rounded eyes. His demeanor told the sandy haired boy he had experience with breaking the bad news, and the way he gazed down at his shoes told Isaac it as just another day at work. Like Isaac was just another client, and Scott some dumb kid who'd gone and gotten himself killed.

"I-" He started but Isac just shook his head, feeling the hot sting of angry tears threating to overflow, and feeling his blood boil he let out one, loud, heart shattering cry. "NO."

He refused, shaking his head profusely. "Youre wrong." The words were professed strongly, but inside he felt weak. "YOU'RE WRONG! He-He can't be! You'll see! He'll come walking in through that door right there, smiling stupidly and laughing about some asinine thing he did with stiles! You'll see!" He continued on in his fit of rage, but subdued himself to at least sit in the chair by the door. It was Scott. Stupid, lovable, invincible Scott. And Isaac wouldn't be leaving without him.

So there he sat. For two days, waiting for the boy who never came.

Snapping back into reality he had just enough time to watch as Stiles made his death march down the stairs, and with a hard gulp, made his way up himself, feeling the eyes of many bearing down on his back, and all he really wanted was that stupid boy, with the lopsided grin and hero complex back to help him through it all. But then again, wasn't that the problem?

Marching up the stairs and to the podium, Isaac sighed, trying to muster up any composure he had left. "So uh...Stiles basically summed him up." Isaac commented, holding onto the sides of the worn out stand for support, and attempting a short smile.

"What uh...what he forgot to add was his uh...damn big heart." Wiping the tears angrily from his face he continued on. "I barely knew him not too long ago, but he was the one with the moral compass. The one who would die to save a total stranger, the one who...let some kid stay at his house when he had no where else to go." And now the place just seemed empty. But that part wasn't fit to say. The gaping loneliness that Scott McCall left in his heart was...well, there wasn't a word for it. Not even close.

"Scott McCall was the bravest person I've ever met. From being a kid who's been treated like shit, to one day making friends with someone who actually cared. It was, extraordinary to say the least." Isaac fumbled with the paper he'd written the speech on, but at this point it was utterly useless, seeing as how the tear stains made his already ghastly handwriting illegible.

"To me, I thought he could never die. I mean, come on! It's Scott. I guess we all die sometime it just seemed so...foreign for him to go. And the weirdest part of all is just the thought that that quirky kid who sat in front of me in History would mean so much- so much to me." Again the persistent tears that had welled at his eyes, made their appearance, cascading down his face and hitting the podium with raw finality. He wiped his face, looking out into the crowd, and skimming the gigantic number of people who had gathered. Half of them didn't truly know who Scott was, and the other half knew him too well.

"He was just some kid, you know? But as you can tell," Isaac added, motioning to the wide crowd, "he wasn't a bad one. Sure, he got into trouble now and then, Stiles here made sure of that." Isaac commented, trying to bring some life to the lifeless Stiles still shock still in his seat, but he wouldn't move. Wouldn't even acknowledge anyone at this point. Isaac's chest tightened, the thought of Scott not being there with him, every step of the way was soul crushing and Isaac had never felt more alone, even having been locked in the freezer for hours.

"He was a damn good kid. We uh, met on the lacrosse field actually, you could say he saw something in me, and that's how we became friends." Isaac said, attempting humor once again, the only slight smiles coming from those who knew of the wolves. Suddenly, and without warning Isaac's legs gave way and he did all he could but clutch the podium harder to keep from falling. The weight of Scott being gone was unbearable, and where he thought the parade of tears had stopped, they started up again, brushing down Isaac's face like it was nothing.

"I miss him already." He choked out, pushing away from the stage, away from Scott's body and away from any happiness he might have. Leaving his best friend there, while Isaac was to go on just wasn't fair. It should've been him. It should've been Isaac laying there, not Scott, never Scott. They say only the good die young but they never mentioned anything about the great.

Marching back to his seat, the eyes still followed him, probably waiting for the fall out that was sure to come but Isaac just shook his head, sighed, and sat down next to Melissa. She was shaking, her entire form in a heap, clutching a tissue like it was a lifeline, and in one swift motion Isaac lay his hand on hers. If he could take away his pseudo mom's pain, he would but the pain in losing Scott McCall would never fade. Not in a million years. Because that's what happens when you come across those rare, truly compassionate people. You love them, then you lose them.

**A/N If you have any specific person you'd like to see up next, feel free to leave a review! Thanks xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey bbys! Sorry for the uber long wait, school started and things got hectic, but if you're still with me, then you are the best! Derek won by a few votes so here's Derek's Point of View!**

Derek's palms sweat furiously as Isaac's speech came to a close. They'd asked him to speak, a broken Melissa McCall had even arrived at his house herself, barely standing upright, and yet somehow she'd made it out better than Derek. It was his fault. His fault this kid lay in the tomb, and Derek outside it. It was all his fault.

"Derek?" Someone asked, and Derek didn't bother to look who as he made his way up. If it were anyone else but Scott in that freaking casket, Derek wouldn't even step foot on burial ground. But this was his responsibility, Scott's death was no one's fault but his own. The grass squeaked under Derek's newly acquired, newly polished dress shoes, the entire dress of the morose gathering disgusting Derek in more ways than one. And the scene all too familiar as the remembrance of the Hale's, the ones who hadn't survived the fire, funeral flashed in his mind. Ever since he'd learned Scott died, in some moronic act of heroism way no less, Derek hadn't eaten. hadn't slept or really talked with anyone outside his pack, and even that was few, sparse words.

He cleared his throat, fidgeting with the choke hold some asshole called a collar. What could he say? That he was the reason everyone had gathered here? that if Derek, in his act of stupid pride, hadn't even helped Scott? How he, the Alpha, was accepting to everyone except the one kid who knew how to save everyone, except himself. It was funny really, how that worked. And in a way almost peaceful. Scott McCall had died in the only way he saw fit, and if it had been any other way, Scott would have found a way around it. Just because he was that kind of kid.

"Scott was a good guy." He spoke, the microphone buzzing, the hum of silence following it. Everyone sat, perched in their seats, most of them not even looking at Derek, more so at the open casket and yet he could feel their eyes piercing like knives. Stiles, Isaac, Melissa, Lydia, Allison, John, hell even Scott's real dad, the king of assholes he was, had shown up. It just proved Derek's simple, yet meaningful statement. Scott was a good kid. The hundred or so people who had come, had each been affected by Scott and the world was just that less bright without him.

"If you ask me, he was too good of a kid. I mean, those of you who knew him close, you know of his damn hero complex. This incessant need to save everyone, with no regard for self preservation. None. Like he'd walk into a fire to save the devil because he thinks maybe, just maybe he can fix someone so broken." The words flowed freely, Derek having to grip the sides of the podium so hard to restrain himself from wolfing out that he could see the visble cracks appearing in the already flimsy wood.

"Scott was the hero of everyone's story, except his own." Saying it out loud hurt worse then when his thoughts were just mentally suffocating him. Now he could feel the loss of air deep in his lungs, and the feeling of free falling enclosing him. It was his fault. He couldn't escape it. Everyone he knew, loved or even looked at fell dead within seconds. Hell, even Laura, who had made it out of the fire died soon after. Well, at least now Scott and Laura had something to talk about.

"I'm not going to sit here and tell you Scott was my best friend and that he could make you smile on a rainy day or whatever. You already know that, or at least, you should. And I'm not here to badger you into loving him either because odds are you already do." or did, his thoughts reminded him, his heart beat accelerating to an unhealthy rhythm. Even for a werewolf.

"He was just a kid." He finished simply, hanging his head low, and for the first time since arriving, he gazed over at the coffin. The form of Scott rested peacefully inside it, and yet the world outside of it was so chaotic. Almost like life itself was begging for that stupid, self sacrificing kid back. In a sense, life really just mimicked the rest of the audience at this goodbye party.

Swallowing hard on whatever had lodged itself in his throat, Derek made his way off the stage, with a short wave at the casket. Stumbling down the creaky stairs, past everyone's view, he immediately began pulling at his tie, like the loosening of his suit could bring him more air, but even his dazed mind knew it wasn't true. Still, it was nice to dream, when other's couldn't.

**Again, sorry for the wait! Hope you liked it! Comment on who you'd like to see next!**


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